


Crumble and Rebuild

by Quirkless_Natsuo (Slowpoke_Curry)



Series: "Reborn" Takes on a Whole New Meaning [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimension Travel, Gen, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gran Torino (My Hero Academia), Reincarnation, before all might's battle with afo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slowpoke_Curry/pseuds/Quirkless_Natsuo
Summary: Hayato just has to be reborn into a family doomed to fall apart.
Relationships: Gokudera Hayato & Gran Torino, Gokudera Hayato & Shimura Nao, Gokudera Hayato & Toshinori Yagi | All Might, Gran Torino & Yagi Toshinori | All Might
Series: "Reborn" Takes on a Whole New Meaning [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763512
Comments: 40
Kudos: 427
Collections: Clever Crossovers & Fantastic Fusions, Reincarnation and Transmigration





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What It Means To Be A Family](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20683901) by [Maven_Fair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maven_Fair/pseuds/Maven_Fair). 



Hayato _misses_ Tsuna.

He’s missed him ever since he woke up months ago, nothing more than a newborn. Trapped and forced to adapt. Which he’s done a pretty good job of, if he may say so himself. And it’s kinda nice to be able to eat without old stomach pains flaring up. Even if the food, like the mush he’s being fed right now, could be better.

"You're so good, Hayato," His new mom praises, wiping his face with his bib.

Nao, his mom, is nice enough. But even when she’s smiling she looks worried. Her expression pinched, somewhat shadowed by her light brown hair.

That expression hasn’t left her face, not for the entire nine months he’s been aware. The closest it gets is when his dad talks to her- and even then the crinkles between her eyebrows don’t leave. Hayato has noticed.

So, he tries to lessen whatever worry she has. He’s something of the perfect baby: Never cries, always smiles, stands up when she brings out her camera and gurgles when she seems to need it. He’s always had a healthy respect for moms - Nana Sawada, especially - and he’s sure that if it was anyone else trying to care for him he’d probably be a little devil.

Especially if it was his father.

While Nao is all warmth, Kotaro is insta-freeze cold. He’s never seen his father wearing anything but formal clothes- hair slicked back with only one flyaway piece, suits and ties and shiny shoes, a weird indifference in his eyes when he looks at his children. Hayato throws most of his tantrums (rare things, when his baby body can’t handle holding back anymore) when the man is the one trying to watch him. Rejects his presence.

He’s eaten the entire thing of carrot mush while spaced out, apparently, because he feels himself being pulled out of his highchair. Nao sways him back and forth- singing some kind of lullaby. Settling his raging emotions.

“Aww, is Hayato sleepy?” Hana coos, walking into the room with her hair down.

Hana isn’t… a _terrible_ presence. His bad experiences with older sisters is probably feeding into an instinctive dislike of her, but there’s also other causes of unease there. She has a bit of a lying streak- mostly to save herself. It wouldn’t be a good quality in a Mafia family, especially the Vongola, who rely greatly on trusting one another.

Still, he’s just a baby, so he hasn’t experienced it all that much.

He’s placed into the nine year old’s arms while Nao starts on her signature ponytails. Hana starts playing with _his_ hair in turn, surprisingly thick for a nine-month-old’s. Still not enough for her to put into any sort of style yet.

“When’s dad coming home?” She asks their mom, gently rocking Hayato. And (damn this body) he was getting sleepy.

“Around seven, tonight.”

That’s the last thing he hears, before he drifts to sleep.

* * *

Tenko, his older brother, is the one to wake him up.

Leaning over his crib, he lets a shy smile spread across his face, his finger held out for Hayato to grab as he pleases. Tenko looks like he just got out of the desert, the skin around his eyes dry and irritated. Very much unlike the picture-perfect family everyone else seems to be a part of. But, besides Nao, Tenko was probably Hayato’s favorite.

_He’s kinda like Tsuna_ , Hayato’s brain sometimes says, the traitor, _Just… Not._

Boss is- _was_ a man of willpower. He didn’t like most of what he'd been roped into doing, but he kept striving towards brighter things. A brighter future. Deciding that while he had the power, life left in his lungs and strength in his muscles, he’d move the moon and the stars to make sure their family was safe. But he’d come from nothing. The title of Dame enveloping him whole while he stewed in it without tempting escape.

Tenko is… weak. He’s Tsuna, without Reborn and without Vongola and without his flames. Dame. But he’s kind. Hayato has a feeling that (even if his legs would shake and he’d probably hyperventilate) Tenko would fight the Devil to keep his family safe.

He has the will to be heroic.

So, he hates when Kotaro shoots that spirit down.

Hayato had been allowed to see it, only once; what happened when heroes were so much as mentioned in the house. A routine story-time of _The Ugly Duckling_ had been cut short. His brother shouting a deafening _no!_ while being dragged outside by the collar. Nao had begged for Tenko to be let back inside, the glass door locked shut and the boy in question curled up against the shed outside. 

And the only response from father was-

“Rules are rules.”

So, yes. The house is a kingdom ruled by Kotaro Shimura, and Tenko is on the lowest tier. No one else knows how to respond… So they don’t. It cries out to the little Tsuna in his head, who’s very outraged at the unfairness.

But all he can do is make Kotaro’s life hard.

Fucking useless.

* * *

Hana and Tenko bunker down in their father’s office for about an hour during the afternoon, after Nao had slathered some kind of soothing gel onto Tenko’s dry skin. Hayato hadn’t paid much mind to it. Sometimes they liked to play her- erm, _office worker_ , where the office worker had to save the boss due to an attack by whatever bad guy they came up with.

But when Kotaro came home in the afternoon, disappearing into his office only to come storming out again, everything shifted.

Tears gathered in Hana’s eyes, sitting beside their mother, as their father spoke deathly calm: _“Did you go into my office?”_

“I-It was Tenko!” Hana blubbered, completely falling apart in the full-force of their father’s ice, “He wanted to go in there- he showed me the picture- i-it was him!”

Tenko was outside, playing with the family corgi, Mon. He couldn’t defend himself. And no one was going to come to his defense, even if Hayato really wanted to. He knows - they all know - even if he was more frigid than the Arctic, father didn’t hate Tenko. But Tenko was the _weakest link._

Unfortunately, Hayato didn’t have enough power to break out of his playpen. His vision to the outside world is obscured by his horrified family members watching on. But the sound of violent punishment was painfully, painfully loud. Even over Hana’s sobs and the shocked gasps.

* * *

His big brother isn’t allowed back inside. Even when the sun has set and crickets begin to chirp. It’s silent inside, everyone is walking on eggshells, and a meal of bananas is threatening to come up with every spoonful he swallows down.

Hana stops brushing the hair of her favorite doll all of a sudden, throwing it aside and standing up. Her face is slightly blotchy from crying and she’s freshly freed from a time-out in her room, “I need to go see Tenko.”

No one encourages her, but no one stops her. Kotaro is safely locked in his study.

It’s less than a minute later that she screams. An ugly sound made of pure unadulterated terror. Hayato freezes, trying to see out into the dusky night, as his grandparents and Nao all stand up to go investigate the cause. And this time, gets to see what happens; their bodies still bathed in the light of the living room.

Chizuo and Mako crumble to dust. The only things left are glasses and hands and hair. Nao slices into pieces, trying to hug the dark (bloody, bloody, _bloody_ ) figure of a crouching Tenko. But the pieces are dust soon enough.

Even if he doesn’t like him, Hayato wishes he could speak- could scream for his father when the man opens up his office door. Likely to investigate the noise.

Kotaro fixes his youngest child with a strange look. Taking in the abandoned spoon and barely-touched food in his bowl. He knows that Nao never leaves the baby alone. Then he turns towards the outside door, face screwed up in confusion and indignation, only to get a front seat view of the murder scene with Tenko at the center.

“Oh, God…” Kotaro says in a sick voice, as Tenko’s ghostly figure stumbles closer.

The air smells like blood. It makes Hayato want to cry- but he doesn’t know if Tenko will kill him too. He doesn't want to die again. Not when there’s a chance the other Vongola are here. This power certainly isn’t from Flames; Hayato is familiar with the disintegration ability of Storm Flames. This is foreign and strange and it settles in that this is most definitely a different world.

“Hayato… Stay here,” Father says like Hayato, trapped in his highchair, could leave. Then he walks outside.

The house trembles and begins to crumple as soon as Kotaro exits. And he hears the man scream- horror on his face, trying to split his attention between his two children. Hayato watches helplessly, barely registering the ceiling caving in around him.

But the distraction is all his brother needs.

Tenko kills Kotaro with fervor. Hayato can tell that it isn’t accidental in any form of the word. The moon lowering behind, stretching Tenko's shadow and silhouetting him… Hayato can see that Tenko is grinning, his hair bleached off-grey and fingers caked in the blood of their family. He probably thinks Hayato is dead already. Because he turns away and stumbles out of the yard.

Hayato finally feels himself start to cry.

He's so fucking _useless._

* * *

**X**

* * *

It’s by total coincidence that Gran Torino is assigned to investigate a house belonging to a man named _Kotaro Shimura._

No matter how old he gets, the hero will always get a bitter taste in his mouth at the very mention of the name Shimura. The only reason he doesn’t refuse the request is a sense of overwhelming duty, the slightest possibility of coming across his former partner’s son.

But… it’s impossible. The house is a murder scene. What was once a quaint, lovely two-story looks like it was ripped apart, starting in the backyard.

The lawn is mostly destroyed dirt and rock, the healthy tree nearly uprooted, everything soaked in dried blood. Most of the proof it was four different bodies are the various locks of hair laying around. The most gruesome piece of evidence is a quarter of an older man’s face. Most of the cops are long-hardened; and it's easy to tell who the newbies are when they have to leave the premises.

“Anybody, anybody- Help!” One of the cadets shrieks, stumbling over herself in her haste to get to them. Her skin is pale beneath her scattered scales, trembling like a leaf and gasping, “There’s a baby in the house! _Alive!_ ”

And then people explode into action.

In the state it’s currently in, the house is akin to a crumpled soda can lying in the street. The structure is barely hanging on. One wrong move and it completely collapses, killing the only known survivor of this suburban massacre.

Thankfully, the child isn’t in the heart of the house. He's fairly close to the backyard, in fact, and some strategic digging reveals him. It would be easy to get him out.

He’s silent, fresh tear tracks still shining on his cheeks. An unfinished bowl of food laying on the tray of his highchair. It’s like he’s stuck in time. Gran Torino is the one sent to try and grab the boy, since his increasing age has also come with a decrease in height, and he’s the least likely to knock something loose.

The kid doesn’t make a single noise when Gran Torino hoists him from the chair. There’s a sick feeling in the hero’s stomach as he thinks; if there had been less damage, if the neighbors hadn’t found a need to report anything, this kid would have starved to death. If there had been more power in the Villain’s quirk or if an earthquake had struck, he’d be buried under rubble.

But right now? The scattering of black hair on the kid’s head is slightly dusty, as is the rest of him. A few scratches are visible on his cheeks, luckily nothing bloody. He might have breathed it in and the doctor’s will take care of that. But he's _alive._

Gran Torino hears the crunch of glass under his boots as he crawls back out of the house. He winces- fuck. The kid probably saw the carnage going on through that door, and Gran Torino really doesn’t know how that’ll impact his development. When did kids start to remember things?

Medical personnel try not to crowd around him, one of the older nurses gently taking the boy from his arms once it's clear the action won't cause him distress. He's like a little doll: totally lacking any sort of reaction.

(Gran is sure that another little kid would cry at the lack of familiar faces. He probably wanted his parents. God, the kid might have never left the house before now.)

The police bring him back to reality as the boy is carried off, likely en route to the nearest Children's Hospital. He helps finish up the sweep of the scene (a sample of relatively untainted vomit found on the scene is collected, along with bits of what is pro _bably dog dear god-_ )

They finish up and he gets a ping from the medics. A request to come to the hospital as soon as possible.

He groans at the sky. Why is this his life?

* * *

Hospital records, government files, and numerous tests tell them what they need to know: Nana Shimura's son, Kotaro Shimura, his wife Nao, along with their daughter, dog, and Nao's parents were murdered and their house destroyed. Their oldest son, Tenko, is currently unaccounted for. Their youngest, Hayato, is safely secured in a Pro Hero grade hospital at Gran Torino's request.

Hayato is _nine months old_ , thankfully not yet old enough to form memories, but it won't exempt him from the possibility of trauma.

Sorahiko has spent the better part of the week haunting the hospital, visiting the boy, and dealing with police and doctors alike. Until Hayato shows signs of his distress… Well, they're working blind. Specialized care could be required and placing him into a permanent home might be tricky.

All the while, Hayato seems unaware of the adults' shared plight.

He gnaws on some kind of toothing snack as Sorahiko scrolls through his contacts, staring at the one he'd been given by the social worker. It would be so _easy_ to bring Hayato into his care. Sorahiko is a friend of his paternal grandmother, a registered Pro Hero with plenty of training and some experience with children…

But he's also… He's _afraid_.

Afraid for Hayato especially. Sorahiko has never been the most… emotionally available. He's got a stick up his ass and the conversational skills of a brick wall. It really didn't feel right to have a kid grow up with that as his main company. But he also doesn't want to throw him into the system. He'd get lost in there, maybe even disappear…

Damn it all.

"Ubuh," Hayato babbles, for the first time Sorahiko's ever heard it, pudgy fingers pressed onto a picture in his newest book.

It's titled _I'm Not a Boogeyman!_ Something of a classic, from when mutant quirks were just beginning to pop up and discrimination was at its peak. The picture Hayato is pointing to is of the main character, a little girl with the head of a dog.

"Very interesting, Hayato," Sorahiko nods. Not sure at what’s so interesting.

Kids like it when you agree with them, right?

"Ubuwah!" Hayato exclaims again, "UMA!"

(Later on, Sorahiko will realize Hayato's first word was actually an _acronym_ of all things. For now, he just pats the kid's hair to encourage his baby babble.)

* * *

Afterwards, whenever he pats the kid's head, he's treated to a smile. And a feeling of warmth goes through him every time. Sorahiko has never particularly liked children... But he _did_ like Kotaro, mostly for Nana's sake, and Hayato's smile is a lot like his father's…

Slowly, he starts to think that, maybe, raising the kid wouldn't be all that bad.


	2. Adjustments

Yellow Boots is the first hero Hayato ever sees.

Or, at least, he _might_ be a hero. That concept hasn’t been much more than a forbidden word in his house. The only reason “hero” comes to mind is because of old American comics he’s seen before.There’s plenty of police walking around in the backyard, but they’re wearing uniforms he’s seen before in his old life. 

Yellow Boots is wearing a kinda goofy outfit in comparison: A off-white bodysuit with a yellow belt along with a yellow cape, yellow gloves, and (you guessed it) chunky yellow boots. The only thing out of the color scheme is the black eye mask he wears.

If this was a normal situation, Hayato might’ve laughed at the whole getup.

Right now… He’s in shock. Being in the Mafia a huge portion of his life means he _should_ be used to violence. But… Shit. He’d been lulled into a sense of security within the Shimura household, no matter how tense the atmosphere could get.

People in paramedic uniforms fuss over him after he’s taken away from Yellow Boot’s arms. The one holding him cradles him against her chest with a firm hold, letting him listen to the beating of her heart.

It isn’t soft nor soothing, like Nao’s was; it’s pounding. Not quite relaxed yet, but steadily slowing down the longer he listens. His discovery probably gave them all a scare.

He bundles up a bit of her blouse in his tiny hand. A soft whimper escapes his throat, letting his hair be stroked back as they hop into the ambulance. Away from everything he’d thought would be concrete in this new life.

* * *

He’s given a quick check-up by a doctor with buggy-looking eyes. Hayato uses the excuse of being a baby to examine the woman’s face, patting her cheeks as she shines a light down his throat. She’s like an UMA! This little bubble of excitement is a welcomed distraction.

“Well, you see to be all fine, Hayato,” She says, her voice amused, jotting something down on her clipboard, “Thank goodness they found you, huh? I’ll be calling Gran Torino to visit you.”

A nurse - a human looking one, much to his disappointment - is called in to keep an eye on him and keep him entertained. “Entertainment” translates into sitting Hayato on his lap and turning on a kid’s channel. Usually he’d be bored out of his mind; but father never let them watch TV in the Shimura house... 

(Hayato whines a bit, frustrated. Why does everything make him think of them?)

Heroes are apparently this world’s version of celebrities. Commercial breaks have at least three hero-based commercials each; seeming to favor ones that feature an outrageously muscled guy wearing another funny looking costume and an ever present smile. He talks about things ranging from how to stay safe when playing outside to toothpaste.

All Hayato can imagine is Tsuna, wearing his high-collared cloak with all the extravagant details with his suit underneath. He’d make an amazing hero. One who can reassure people, save them and make them feel completely loyal to him.

Hm. Maybe it’s just his experience talking.

The door to his hospital room opens. It’s Yellow Boots, now missing his eye mask and cape, “How’s the kid doing?” He asks, voice just as serious and gruff as before. But there’s something in there; a hint of thoughtfulness, maybe?

“Luckily, he didn’t show any signs of injury,” The nurse holding him says, switching off the TV with a flick of his wrist, “Some dust inhalation, but since the house was so new there won’t be any trouble.”

Again, he stays still as he’s exchanged between the two adults. Yellow Boots is stiff and tense in a painfully obvious way. He holds Hayato like one wrong move will break him.

Mr. Nurse laughs, “Gran Torino, sir, you’ll upset Hayato.”

Gran Torino - okay, that’s a silly alias, Hayato prefers Yellow Boots - tries to loosen up. Listening to the nurse's instruction, he eventually has Hayato safely tucked into the crook of his elbow. It’s still too different from Nao to be comfortable.

(Ugh. He can’t keep making himself sad. It isn't good for him.)

* * *

Torino becomes a new fixture in Hayato’s life.

Hayato is afraid to get attached to him. There’s still too much daily pain, flaring up at the slightest thought of the Shimura family like someone was stabbing his side with a fork. But… It’s kinda nice, too. To have someone supporting him- no matter how grouchy and gruff the support is.

Against his better judgement, he started to smile at the man, sometimes, using his two bottom teeth to his advantage.

There’s a calloused hand resting on Hayato’s head, just like every other day; Torino scrolling through his phone as Hayato reads a picture book one of the police officers brought for him a few days ago, both sitting on the ground in a patch of sunshine.

“Hayato?”

He turns his head, giving Torino his attention. The man looks more nervous than Hayato has ever seen - his usual frown is deeper than ever before and it makes the lines of his face very apparent. The only time he gets close to this level of worry is when he’s roped into trying to feed Hayato.

Anxiety settles in, taking the form of a bitter taste at the back of Hayato’s throat. Is he going to be given bad news?

“How would you feel, coming home with me?” Torino finally says, a slight flush on his face from embarrassment, “I mean… I just want to give you a choice.”

A phone is lowered into Hayato’s line of view. On screen in a tidy apartment, roomier than the one he used to live in during his past life. Big windows let in daylight and offer a pretty view of the surrounding city. Different enough from everything he used to have that he doesn’t feel the ever-present, sickly guilt.

All in all, it’s perfect.

It’s hard to convey emotions when you can’t do much more than smile or cry or babble. But he sure as hell has to try. Hayato pushes his book to the side, using Torino’s chest to try and push himself up to his feet. Then, he pats the hero’s face.

“Buh.”

Gran Torino smiles, in a way that looks unpracticed yet retains its warmth, “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Hayato has never been overly religious, preferring the scientifically explained. But he still prays to any deity that may be watching that this will be the home that stays.

* * *

**x**

* * *

Toshinori doesn’t make it a point to talk to Torino often.

Deep inside, he has some kind of affection for the older man. He just… didn’t show it, not like he could tell Nana how much he admired and adored her. It was buried under fear stemming from brutal training and the chance of a bad reaction. The closest Toshinori has gotten with Gran was an awkward hug that he didn’t immediately rocket his way out of.

They keep a _professional_ distance. At least, that’s what the younger man would say. Neither of them try to make the first attempt at contact and have been mostly on radio silence for a few years at this point.

So… Toshinori panics when he finds out he missed a call from his mentor.

Heart in his throat, the hero presses the _Call Back_ button. It beeps- once, twice, three times… Toshinori nearly hangs up to try again, when the line is picked up.

“Way to keep me waiting, beanpole,” Gran Torino says, voice as gruff as ever. He sounds busy.

“I apologize, I had an extra patrol tonight.”

He lets his muscles relax as he tucks his phone against his ear and his chin. Not having to let One for All circulate through his tensed muscles gives him some room to slip out of the tight latex suit he wears. Then he starts getting dressed in his much more comfortable civilian clothing.

Gran clicks his tongue, “At least you called back. If you ignored me I’d have to kick your ass.”

A tiny, high pitched voice on the other end echoes “ _ass_ ” with great enthusiasm. Toshinori chokes on his air.

“Ah, damn,” His former teacher says in a resigned whisper, and then sounds distinctly farther away as he continues, “Hayato, don’t repeat that-!”

“Ass, ass, ass! Gran’pa says ass!”

“Gran Torino,” Toshinori says quietly, the urge to laugh overshadowed by pure confusion, “Why is there a child in your apartment?”

The recently retired Pro had sworn off having kids when Toshinori was still in high school. Something about his _ability to provide_ , if memory serves him right. It had been during a day he remembered fondly, especially because he could still hear Nana laughing about some joke only the two adults would understand.

So why does he have a little kid?

“That’s what I’m callin’ about,” Gran sighs, “Can you come over to my place? And probably buy some takeout sushi or whatever.”

...Well. Anything to satisfy this curiosity. Toshinori easily agrees, already knowing what sushi place to go to as Gran Torino rattles off his address. (When did he move?) And then he’s off.

* * *

He makes it to Torino’s new apartment in record time. It’s a shockingly nice place, on the expensive side for the notorious cheapskate that is Gran Torino, it’s even near the top floor. Toshinori barely fits in the sleek modern elevator. But he manages it and knocks on the apartment door.

Torino opens it up, his eyes freezing Toshinori in his path. The quick evaluation feels like it takes hours. But his mentor huffs, eventually, turning back into the apartment and Toshinori knows well enough to follow.

Sushi is placed onto the granite island of the kitchen while Toshinori tries to make his staring not so obvious. The house is a strange mix of sleek modern, American memorabilia, and children’s toys. Colorful child’s gates block off every path that may lead somewhere vaguely dangerous; many plush toys lay around as well as plastic ones; there’s a playhouse tucked against a wall. Basically, it looks like a toy store exploded.

The cause sits innocently on a couch, hugging onto a large plush blanket decorated with cartoon cats. Green eyes watch his every move intently, shaggy black hair framing his pale face. He smiles after a bit, pointing at Toshinori, “Toothpaste!”

“...Huh?”

Gran Torino snorts a laugh, already digging through the sushi, “He sees your toothpaste commercial all the time, that’s basically who you are to him. Hayato, sushi?”

“Wait, wait. Can you explain this, Gran?”

“After dinner. Would you make an old man and a two year old starve, Toshinori?”

It’s an exaggeration, but Toshinori still winces, “Of course not, sir.”

Dinner is… weird. Gran Torino eyes look strangely soft, helping the mystery boy eat pieces of sushi. It’s a look Toshinori has only seen twice before: Towards Nana, the first and only time she cried in front of him. And towards him, after Nana died. He almost wants to say that it might be love.

Toshinori barely touches his food, lost too deeply in his own mind while thinking.

“Toothpaste, eat!” Hayato says, an upset look on his face. It’s hard to believe this boy is only two; not only with his awareness, but he looks… old. It’s in his eyes. A bone-deep tiredness. It’s a startling look on a child.

He starts to eat a bit more, if only to appease the child.

The sushi is finished in silence, and Gran takes a moment to lay Hayato down for a nap, but when he’s back in the living room Toshinori is ready to pass out from anticipation. He takes a seat on the couch while the older man sighs deeply.

“So… You’re wondering about Hayato. It’s… unpleasant, but I’ll tell you.”

And Gran Torino tells him about the deaths of the Shimura family.

* * *

Toshinori comes by often after that, sometimes bringing a rare piece of merch for his self-proclaimed “nephew.” Hayato isn’t all that interested in them; but it’ll be an investment for the future. There’s a feeling of duty to be there for the child, mixing with a simmering anger at himself and at whoever killed the boy’s family.

It might also be to help with his guilt about Nana's death. But no one needs to know that.

Gran Torino doesn’t seem to mind his presence. But he does take the opportunity to criticize All Might’s various public battles and appearances. _There’s always ways to improve,_ as he always says, smirking at the Number One Hero in the way only he could get away with.

Hayato’s fourth birthday comes by in a flash.

There’s been a huge learning curve with the boy: He has moments where he doesn’t make a sound, staring out the apartment’s large windows. Sometimes he cries to himself- but would stop instantly if an adult made their presence known. He dislikes purple-colored foods and loves mutant quirks, silver trinkets were hoarded like the most valuable treasure.

So… a very strange boy indeed. But lovable nonetheless.

“Uncle Toothpaste!” Hayato exclaims as soon as Toshinori enters, looking up from a book written by one of the newer sidekicks, Centipeder. Personally signed by way of an owed favor.

“Hayato, my boy! Happy birthday!”

The boy slides off the couch- and Toshinori sees it happen. Hayato’s fingertips have the slightest glow to them as they let go of the book; instead of resting on the couch, it stays just above the cushion, gently bobbing.

Hayato turns around to look at it, following the Pro’s shocked line of sight. He yelps in surprise, jumping back as the book is released from the effect of Hayato’s quirk.

Toshinori laughs, dropping the wrapped boxes as he rushes forward to pick the boy up and spin him around. He got his quirk! It seems to be a Floating quirk, like Nana’s... How exciting!

(He can’t see the stricken look on Hayato’s face. Nor the way he tries to call upon a power that doesn’t exist in this world; the idea that he could one day feel it’s familiar energy return to him slipping away.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so... surprise second part to this. Both for the readers and for me, really! Hayato's life with the Shimuras is vastly different than his life with Torino; it felt weird to try and put it into a single story so I cut off the first part with a "good enough." Then I started to work on Tsuna's fic and new ideas began to worm their way into my brain. 
> 
> So... Second part. Focusing on Hayato's life with Torino! And a little All Might!
> 
> This will probably be the only one of these "origin" type fics that has two parts. Hayato just had two whole families to cover. And, also... No Flames. Because I'm terrible and I want to think up some good quirks for these kids!
> 
> I think I'll post Tsuna's next week? I'm trying to ride the high of this AU and produce the content for it while I'm still feeling it, y'know? Anyways! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Hayato Shimura  
> Quirk - Object Float. Hayato can make objects float if he's touched them recently. He can't make himself or other sentient beings float by touching their body directly, but if he touches clothes they will float.

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is something new!
> 
> I've seen a few really good "KHR characters in BNHA" stories before, and they actually got me to watch KHR! Especially the "in which..." series by Maven_Fair, which I hope it's okay for me to tag! I'm new to the whole inspired by feature. Anyways, I'm still not to deep into KHR, but... The idea wouldn't leave until it was written. So hopefully Hayato isn't too OOC, I tried my best. And I do have ideas for other characters! Especially Hibari and Tsuna. Maybe those will come in the near future?
> 
> Another little note: Tenko was five in canon when he killed his family, and I hc Hana as six. They've both been aged up three years because I wanted the KHR characters to be 12 while Class 1-A are 15. This will (hopefully) be the only age change!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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